


when i walked into your house

by procrastinationfairy



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: Discussion of rape/non-con, M/M, Mentions of Lyja the Lazerfist, also the johnnywyatt was meant to be more than this but i have time to write more, and because of her, anyway enjoy this johnny-angst plus a first attempt at writing johnny dealing with trauma, but it's not exactly explicit, discussion of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinationfairy/pseuds/procrastinationfairy
Summary: Johnny may never have been married to Alicia, but it doesn’t make Ben and Alicia’s first anniversary any easier to bear. So he goes to Wyatt and tries to face the past.





	when i walked into your house

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some JohnnyWyatt and had no ideas, so I slopped together a bunch of prompts to make something. It got longer and more serious than I intended. I ended up reading through a bunch of comics to try to make this comic-accurate, but it’s also . . . not. So. Enjoy this Johnny-angst. I'm on tumblr @spideylovesgwendy, and I'm always willing to talk about JohnnyWyatt. 
> 
> Content Warning: This is in the tags, but just in case, this a reminder. This fic contains discussion of rape and abuse (mostly through discussion of Lyja). While it's not explicit, if you think this will make you uncomfortable, it might be a good idea not to read this.

It’s not the first time Johnny’s crashed at Wyatt’s place. He can’t help it. When his life turns to ashes, he seeks comfort with the people who are always there. And Wyatt is someone who, even if he’s not _there_ , would find a way to be there for Johnny.

Johnny is not thinking about Ben and Alicia. He’s not thinking about how it’s their first wedding anniversary. They deserve to be happy, after all, and he wouldn’t wish anything less on them. But it doesn’t make this night easier for him. 

When he’d shown up at Wyatt’s place that morning, Wyatt had said that he would be out for most of the day with business, but he hoped to be back by nine. Johnny had hoped for that, but it hadn’t come true. The hands on the clock in Wyatt’s living room read 11:29, and Wyatt’s still not home. Johnny’s mostly upset for himself, but when he thinks about it a moment longer, he hopes nothing has gone wrong. Anything keeping Wyatt out would have to be serious, right?

For now, all he can do is lounge on the couch and stare at wall. The clock sits in the center. Along the sides are various pictures, some from New York, with Jen, the others, but most are from Oklahoma. Johnny doesn’t recognize every face in these pictures.

The door swings open at 11:53. Wyatt enters, and the emptiness in the room leaves. He takes up so much space that even in a room like this, Johnny almost feels stifled, like he’s trying to flame on and all the oxygen has disappeared. With Wyatt, he normally finds this feeling almost pleasant. 

Nothing can feel pleasant right now. 

“Why are you awake so late?” Wyatt asks, in that gentle, slow tone of his. Johnny’s always liked the way Wyatt talks. Maybe it’s a side effect of being one of the few people in his life who don’t view him as the kid member of the Fantastic Four, but Wyatt has never talked down to him. Johnny loves that. He loves that no matter what, Wyatt will be there to _talk_ , not to lecture or scold or advise. 

Johnny can’t muster up a smile for that this time. “Rough night,” he says. He turns away from the clock for the first time in nearly an hour, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch to stare at Wyatt. “What took you so long?”

Wyatt offers a story for distraction. Some of the kids were out too late; their parents were worried, so they rounded up a search party. They finally found them trying to fix a door they broke down on Rebecca’s house. Hadn’t Wyatt told him that Rebecca had made it big with her racing? No one was home, and the kids had hoped to fix things before anyone found out. They all ended up patching the door back on as bet they could, at least until the morning. 

Johnny takes the bait, tries to laugh at the right spots. But Wyatt is maybe too good at recognizing what Johnny needs. 

“What can I do?” he asks, when it’s become clear that distracting Johnny is not the solution. 

“Do you . . . Do you have the pictures I asked you to store?” Johnny’s throat closes around these words. For a moment, he remembers being six-years-old and getting stung by a bee. He remembers his throat feeling the same way then. 

Wyatt’s eyes, deep and brown, look heavy in his face. “Yes,” he says, almost reluctantly. He doesn’t offer to bring them out.

“I want to see them,” Johnny says anyway. 

Wyatt doesn’t protest this. Johnny knows him well enough to know he thinks it’s a bad idea. 

Wyatt brings the box out of one of the cabinets. It’s not a big box by any means, which is why Johnny thinks it’s kind of funny that it contains one of the biggest moments of his life. He spares a glance up to Wyatt, standing tall, almost looming over the memories. Johnny brushes his hands against his knees, the denim dragging against his palms, before he slides onto the floor. 

“Johnny,” Wyatt sighs, but he merely shakes his head.

“I need to look. I need to do this tonight.” Johnny lifts his head. His hair won’t stay in place, and a curl falls across his forehead. He sees an ember float in front of his face, and he reaches to catch it before it singes the carpet. Hair, not fire. He has to stay calm. 

After a moment, Wyatt lowers himself to the floor as well. He sets one large hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Okay. Then we can do this together,” he says. It’s almost an offer, and if Johnny asked, he’d leave. That’s why he feels comfortable doing this. 

He pulls out the first picture. This wedding dress is nothing like the one Alicia chose. If Johnny’s honest, he kind of hates it. It doesn’t suit the woman in the photo at all, and it’s not something Johnny would choose if he was designing his dream wedding. It’s hard to believe he found it so enchanting at the time. 

He swallows and sets the picture on the ground. 

Wyatt says nothing. His hand moves to the small of Johnny’s back, a warm, comforting presence.

“I was really happy that day,” Johnny confesses. He was. He really did think he loved Alicia. At the time, the wedding had seemed . . . magical. 

“I know,” Wyatt says. “I am . . . sorry this is how it ended for you.”

Johnny huffs out a breath through his nose and reaches for the next picture. “What did I expect? With my track record, next time I’ll marry a--” He stops. He wants to joke about this. But nothing he thinks of can actually ring out like a joke when all he can think about is if he ever married someone else who did something even remotely close to what Lyja did, if he ever lost what he thought was his wife and child again, he doesn’t think he could survive. 

“Next time, you’ll marry someone who makes you happy, and who will continue to make you happy for the rest of your life,” Wyatt says, matter of fact and sure. Johnny feels like he’s about to sink through the floor, so he leans back into Wyatt’s hand until Wyatt slings an arm around him and draws him closer. That feels better. His whole body is still off--like his toes feel numb and his heart is pounding at a strange pace. 

“What if there’s not a next time?” Johnny asks. It’s a question he’s asked to himself before. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone he could consider marrying in his life. His recent girlfriends, lovely as some of them were, weren’t the kind of woman he planned on marrying, and he’d known that when he started dating them. Then there was Daken. If Johnny is honest, he should have known that nothing good would ever come from Daken. But maybe he’d hoped that things would be different with--

Wyatt’s hand squeezes Johnny’s shoulder. “If there’s not a next time,” he assures, “then that’s okay. You’re not alone. You have your family. Reed, Sue, Ben. Franklin and Val. Jen. Me,” he suggests.

“Alicia,” Johnny adds. She’s family now. He can’t forget that. He knows why Wyatt left her out, but Johnny can’t. 

“Of course,” Wyatt agrees. His hand moves to Johnny’s hair, parting a few curls that have clung together. “Are you hungry? Did you eat while I was gone?”

Johnny shakes his head. “I’m not hungry,” he says. 

Wyatt nods. Johnny feels his stomach grumble behind him, and he tries not to laugh at how Wyatt would ignore how long he’d gone without a meal to be here for him. There aren’t many people in the world like Wyatt.

“Go make yourself something,” he says.

Wyatt looks hesitant. “If you need me here while you--”

“I can handle it,” Johnny assures. They engage in eye to eye combat until Wyatt relents, understanding what this was. He pats Johnny on the shoulder once more as he gets on his feet, towering over Johnny like a tree, shading him from the scorching heat of the sun. And then the protection is gone. Johnny can hear a few clangs in the kitchen, but Wyatt isn’t right here anymore. That’s fine. Johnny’s used to taking the heat.

Johnny can do this. He can finish looking through this box.

Most of its contents are pictures. There’s a few old gifts, pieces from the past that Johnny should burn but has never been able to. It’s funny how harmless they seem, now that he hasn’t seen Lyja in years. It’s funny how even looking at them makes his gut twist until he feels like he needs to go into the kitchen and quiz Wyatt _just to be sure_. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat and continues searching. 

His fingers brush against a folded paper in the corner of the box. It’s pressed against the side, between the wedding tape and the cardboard. Strange. Johnny doesn’t remember putting any paper in this box. 

When he pulls it out, he finds a folded piece of notebook paper, blue lines faded and the white yellowed. Johnny furrows his brow before unfolding it, delicately to keep it from ripping. 

_Johnny,_

_You remember when I told you my grandfather died. When my father passed long ago, I knew I would take my place as chief younger than we had anticipated. At the time, it wasn’t such a pressing concern. Silent Fox always seemed so hardy, so vital. I hadn’t imagined it would happen before I turned thirty._

_But it has. I am supposed to be my tribe’s chief. I understand the responsibility is great, and I have a duty to care for them._

_I’m not ready. I thought before today that I could be. I thought I could take the role of chief. But I still have so much I want beyond the reservation. For this, I am coming back to New York._

_You must wonder why I’m writing this when we’ve already discussed it. You know I’m returning to New York with you and your family. Yes, I want to work with the Fantastic Four again. Your adventures have always given me more to think about than a trip around the world could. If I want to broaden my horizons, the Fantastic Four is the best place to start._

_That’s not why I chose to come with you. I need you to understand that. I want to travel with you and your family, but first, I want to travel with_ you _. I can’t be chief to my people when the person I want most to be with is in New York. I love you, Johnny._

He can’t read beyond this. Johnny tries. But his eyes are blurry, like a sheet of plastic wrap has slid across his irises. He realizes that it’s tears. He blinks a few times, which only serves to wet his lashes. He sets the letter down as he tries to get ahold of himself. 

“What are you reading, Johnny?” Wyatt asks. His voice is so normal, like he doesn’t even know. Of course he knows. He wrote it. 

Johnny turns to look at him. His vision is clearing a little, and Wyatt’s face has twisted into concern. He has a sandwich on a plate, which he sets down so both hands are free to cup Johnny’s face.

“You wrote this,” Johnny says. He shakes the paper in the air once. 

Wyatt pauses and turns to look at the letter. His mouth tightens as he nods. “Ah. Yes, I did. A long time ago.” His voice has fallen soft, and he pries the letter from Johnny’s fingers. “I didn’t realize that had fallen in there. It was on top of some of my things. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny asks. 

Wyatt doesn’t answer. He sits down on the floor. He doesn’t eat his sandwich. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He’s demanding now, turns onto his knees and reaches to clutch Wyatt by the shoulders. “You-- You came to New York for _me_! You should have told me! We could have--” Johnny feels his face burn, and he has to check for his reflection in Wyatt’s eyes to make sure he’s not actually on fire.

“When I came to New York, you were falling in love,” Wyatt says. He doesn’t elaborate. That tight feeling spreads from Johnny’s gut to his chest. “I . . . I saw that you were happy. All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

Johnny can barely keep himself from puking. He falls forward until his head is on Wyatt’s shoulder. His nose brushes against his neck, and he takes in the faint scent of Wyatt’s cologne, deep and heady. He wants to forget that anything but Wyatt and his cologne exist for the rest of eternity.

“You should have told me anyway,” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt says. He doesn’t sound particularly regretful. For a moment, Johnny feels the heat of jealousy. Of course he doesn’t. Wyatt didn’t even need Johnny back then. He found Jen, tall, beautiful Jen, strong and tough She-Hulk. They fell in love. They almost got married. Why would he have traded any of that for Johnny?

Jealousy and anger are hot emotions. Johnny likes that. Hot is easy. He sits up straight. “If you’d told me, maybe I wouldn’t have married Lyja!”

Wyatt doesn’t get angry that Johnny is blaming him. He could list the millions of other reasons that he would never have told Johnny about his feelings _then_. But he doesn't argue this because he knows what Johnny is saying right now isn't what's really making Johnny angry. 

What Wyatt does is draw Johnny to his chest. He wants to fight it. He wants to let out all this pent-up anger, and whatever feeling that definitely was _not_ anger, that had weighed inside his chest from the moment he’d first seen Lyja’s true face. He’s afraid that if he does, he’ll burst into flames. Wyatt is holding him, so he has to be careful. He takes deep breaths until he feels the heat inside him grow softer. His head presses into Wyatt’s chest, and Wyatt tightens his grip. 

“If I had known what she would do to you, I would have done anything to keep you from marrying her,” he says. 

That’s the worst part. Johnny knows this. He knows no one in his family would have watched this happen if they’d known. They were all fooled. Johnny just took the brunt of it. 

“You have no idea what she took from me, Wyatt,” he says after hearing the clock tick by for a few minutes. “I . . . I keep trying. Everything I wanted with-- with her, I thought I could have-- I thought she loved me--”

He knows he’s incoherent, but Wyatt seems to understand anyway. He settles his hand in Johnny’s hair, smooths out each curl individually until Johnny can catch his breath.

“I don’t feel like the same person,” Johnny begins again. He needs to say this. He needs for someone to hear this and understand, and if there’s anyone in the world who will, it’s Wyatt. “When I found it, it was like . . . At first, I couldn’t believe it. Because I’d been married. And that was Alicia. And I knew it was Alicia. But every year I think about this, and it seems worse. What she said to me. How she-- touched me.”

It still makes his skin crawl. He thinks of her in his shirt, and that’s bad enough. He thinks of her in bed. He can’t bear it. 

“What she did is unforgivable,” Wyatt agrees. 

Johnny breathes out. His breath is hot, and he wonders if it’s uncomfortable against Wyatt’s skin. “All that time with her. Sleeping next to her. And it wasn’t Alicia,” he says. “You know, that’s why-- what’s why we came up with the procedures. If you think something is off, you have to quiz each other. Make sure it’s really--”

“I know, Johnny.” Wyatt was there for the briefings. Johnny remembers that. He has tests for every person in his life, probably more grueling than other superheroes’. “I’ve always known why you need that.”

“How am I ever supposed to be sure that I can trust someone, Wyatt?” Johnny lifts his eyes to Wyatt’s, pleading for an actual answer. He wishes Wyatt could solve this. Wyatt’s always been good at solving problems that others can’t figure out. He’s like Reed with science, except with emotions. 

But this is something even Wyatt can’t solve. He squeezes Johnny a little tighter. “However you need to,” he says. “You’ve found ways to make sure we’re us. And if you can do that, you can learn to trust someone in a relationship. I have faith in you, Johnny.”

Johnny has trouble believing that. But Wyatt’s arms are strong around him, and he wants to relax.

“My favorite memory is when my father taught me to ride,” Wyatt offers. 

The quiz. Johnny lets the anger flow out. When he releases heat, it’s violent. He has to fly as high as possible to avoid hurting anyone, but even then, Johnny knows it’s risky. By releasing heat into the atmosphere, he can change weather patterns or hurt something that just so happens to be as high as he is. But this isn’t violent. Everything seems to wash away at once, and he can only wrap his arms around Wyatt, hands on his broad back.

“We met looking for the dean’s office at Metro,” Johnny mumbles into Wyatt’s shoulder, muffled by his sleeve. 

“Good. We’re both us.” Wyatt says this seriously, not at all like he’s making fun of the fact that Johnny needs to know this. Even if it’s been years since Lyja has come around. Even if it’s stupid. Wyatt doesn’t treat this like it’s stupid. 

Johnny curls his fingers into Wyatt’s shirt. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course,” Wyatt says. 

“How long did you love me?”

This question makes Wyatt pause. Johnny feels his head dip, nose brushing against his scalp while he adjusts his embrace. “I’m not sure when it became _love_ , but . . . I think I had a crush on you the first day we met,” he admitted. 

Johnny jerks back, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

Wyatt gives a sheepish smile. “You were beautiful. And by chance, we happened to be roommates. I thought I could take advantage of that situation. I’d hoped that if we hung out a few times, maybe something would happen.”

“But I loved Crystal,” Johnny remembers.

Wyatt shrugs. “It was alright. Your friendship was just as good. I’m glad to have you in my life.”

It’s kind of a rejection, and it stings. Johnny has far too many of his exes in his life as friends only. He wouldn’t go back to any of those relationships. But with Wyatt, he hadn’t even had the chance. “You’re my best friend,” he says, flashing a bright smile. 

Wyatt softens as he reaches to stroke Johnny’s cheek, warm again. “I never found a good chance to tell you. But I mean it, Johnny. I loved you. I wanted you to be happy. If you were happy with another, then I was happy to be your friend.”

“I know. I know. It’s great. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Johnny says. He tries to keep up a grin as he begins to pack up the box again. He puts all the pictures of Lyja face down before shoving the box to the side, so he’ll remember to burn it the next morning. He glances at the letter, dropped at some point between their words. He’ll grab that later. It's the only thing in the box he wants to keep. It's the only thing in the box that tells him someone loved him, at some point. 

“Johnny,” Wyatt calls softly.

He doesn’t answer with words. He catches Wyatt’s eyes and tries not to melt at how warm he always looks. Johnny may be fire, good for a good time but scorching if you hang around too long, but he thinks of Wyatt as something like a hearth. There’s nothing that will hurt you, but only something to guide you home and keep you safe. “What?” he laughs, like he doesn’t want something more.

It hurts to want to what he’s wanted and lost. When he dates, he chooses people he knows he won’t want to keep forever. But when faced with someone he could want forever with--

“I’m always here,” Wyatt assures. 

Johnny knows that. Wyatt is always there when Johnny needs him. This house is always open. 

“Can I stay for a while?” he asks. He’s not ready to return to New York. He wants to be with Wyatt a little longer, to maybe figure these things out. And Wyatt’s house is nice, like a normal house. It almost reminds Johnny of the house he grew up in.

“You can stay as long as you like,” Wyatt assures. He loosens his grip on Johnny just a little, turning to hold him tighter. Johnny glances at the plate on the floor, all but forgotten. He doesn’t mention it. He hopes that Wyatt won’t let him go for a while. 

Johnny will need to go back to New York eventually. But right now, he thinks he’d like to stay forever. 


End file.
